


A Father's Tale

by Lucere_Aeresta



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucere_Aeresta/pseuds/Lucere_Aeresta





	A Father's Tale

1.

Eliath sidled her way through the woods, keeping herself underneath the shadow of trees cast against the light of Masser and Secunda. She held her steps from time to time, listening and peeking around to make sure nobody was tailing her. It was a risky move that she snuck out from Mournhold as an ordinator trainee, yet it was her weekly routine for almost a year.

She was here in the woods to meet with her Ashlander lover Kanrud. It was pure insanity for an honored member of House Indoril to date an Ashlander, but the young mer was charming and suave, deeply in love with her, so as she to him. How could she resist such a passionate affection? The feeling of guilt raised only for a split second the first time they kissed, and sank into Oblivion when Kanrud told her that he loved her by heart and soul.

It was no less a taboo to date a house Dunmer in Ashlander tribes, at least for the one Kanrud belonged to. They were very cautious and always covered their trials about the clandestine love affair. They were not able to meet every night, but she managed to sneak out as much as she could to hold hands with her lover just for a couple of hours, having a little chat, or even more.

However, today’s tryst was going to be intense. Eliath took a piece of paper from her pocket and opened it up under the moonlight. It was a letter from her father, Sedriar Indoril, a loyal senior officer of House Indoril. In the letter, he talked about how much he was proud of her being an ordinator and honored that his daughter was going to be a Servant of The Temple; he encouraged her to compete for the premier position of Hands of Almalexia. All of these sounded promising, other than in the last paragraph, Sedriar wrote that he endorsed marriage between her and a promising talented acolyte of The Temple, Alvis Terrlam. He said that he was not forcing or pressuring her to nod on the wedding, but Eliath was acutely aware that it was the expectation of all her family members, other than herself. And even she was not to marry Alvis; it was utterly impossible to obtain the blessing from her parents for marrying Kanrud. She would surely be exiled from House Indoril and forbidden setting a foot into Mournhold or any Indoril territory forever.

The mere thoughts of all of the consequence of her love affair were like a thorn buried in her heart. Although she had learned that Sedriar was her adoptive father since a young age, it never changed how much she awed and loved him, and she bore the fact in her heart that he treated her as his own daughter.

“You are a grown woman, my Eliath.” The day she left for ordinator training, Sedriar told her, with his palm on her shoulder, “I am so proud of you. You are going to be a member of the distinguished service for The Temple. It has always been my dream.”

“Mine too.” She hesitated a bit when she said this. She thought she heartily meant it, yet it felt somehow odd when she spoke it aloud, “And I won’t disappoint you, father.”

“I have faith in you, my daughter. And…” Sedriar paused and smiled, “my heart is filled with delight as I think about Ornird and his wife. I am sure they would be proud of you as much as I do.”

Ornird Aesil, the name Eliath had been hearing since she was a kid, the man who sired her, tied in blood with her. She learned that he was a junior officer of House Indoril; he braved the fierce final battle against their enemies, Dwemer and the evil House Dagoth, and fought till his death in glory. She never met the Aesil couple. Nevertheless, she honored the imbued memory of her parents.

But at this moment, what should she do? She stared at the figure moving towards her, knowing it was her beloved one, but barely felt any joy or excitement. She had been pushed the discussion aside for too long that she had to face it soon.

 

 

“My love, dear Eliath.” The sweet lips of Kanrud touched hers. Her frayed nerve relaxed for the moment. She held his hands and kept kissing him, wishing they would never have to apart or hide like this.

“It delights my heart to see your face. I started to worry about you, love.” Eliath said.

“Sorry I’m late, but I didn’t mean to be. I think my tribe seems a little...aware of, or at least suspecting, that I have some secret. I have to be very cautious.” Kanrud held her in his arms, “Worry none. I prayed to Azura every day and night, and I know she will bless our love.”

“I hope so,” Eliath said, hesitating if she should discuss the matter regarding the letter. But before she made up her mind, Kanrud took off the sheaf on his back and started to unpack it.

“I want to show you something!” He said, eyes shining, “Do you remember the scrolls and rune stones I brought you last time? I found more of them!”

“They are not rune stones. I sense the magic in the stones though, but not sure what it is.” Still kept her mind on the letter, she didn’t change the topic though, “Let me see what you’ve got.”

“I have no talent for magic.” Kanrud handed Eliath his new findings, “You, on the contrary, you do have a natural magic gift. Were your parents mages or sorcerers?”

“My late mother had a talent for magic, that I heard. I was told that she was an excellent healer of House Indoril.”

“And why do you even want to be an ordinator? I’ve seen how you could master Destruction and Alteration, and the enchanted dagger you gifted me was a masterpiece! You could easily be a great sorceress.”

“I realized I was gifted of magic when I was a child, but soon found out that it was frowned upon in House Indoril, especially within families of high-rank officers and councilors. Indoril is a great house of warriors, and some believe using magic, especially in battlefields, is effeminate, even cowardly. Recovery Magic is a different story though, but it is not what I am gifted with. Besides, it is a great honor to serve as an ordinator in House Indoril. Everyone I know would sacrifice their lives to be in my position.”

“But do you heartily believe all of these?” Kanrud asked.

Eliath paused examining the two stone figurines, eyeing the Ashlander, “Who am I to judge my House tradition? Would you challenge your ashkhan or question the wisdom of the wise woman? Would you disobey them merely because you don’t like what they said?”

“Don’t be mad at me. I apologize for what I said.” Kanrud smiled, scratching his head, “I just…I wouldn’t do that of course, but I’m saying…see, we are already in this situation that….”

Eliath sighed, set down the figurines, and grabbed a hand of Kanrud’s, holding it in between her palms. Her tone softened and tendered.

“I didn’t mean to be mad at you, my love, not at all. I’m so sorry, actually I… ” As the topic was shifting to what she was preparing to talk about today, Eliath took a deep breath and was about to bring up the letter. However, she heard Kanrud exclaiming, interrupting her upcoming words.

“Watch out!” He pointed at the figurines sitting right next to her feet.

Instinctively, Eliath hopped back, together with Kanrud. She saw the symbols on them was gleaming and flickering with magmatic colors. It looked like two pocket-size volcanoes were about to erupt from the odd figurines. She bent over, holding her magic wards up, trying to touch them. They were not as scorching as they seemed to like, though she could feel the warmth and some magical energy lurking inside the stones.

All of a sudden, she captured a slight sense of being, seemingly a ghost, something not belonged to the mortal world. It even felt like some divine power as she was familiar with in the Tribunal Temple.

She tried to concentrate, following the magic trail and started to chase it. Kanrud silently followed her steps. Blurrily, she saw a shade lurking in the tuft around the narrow path. She had a grasp of the sense drawing near but never managed to get quite there.

After an intense long chasing, the vague shade stopped moving all in a sudden and turned into a shimmering figure; in a split second it started to fade into the darkness of woods. She began to hear some whispers, sounds like her name, and something else that she could not tell apart. When she tried to make it clear, the whispers were gone, leaving only the chattering of birds and the rustle of leaves.

“What was that…” Eliath breathed heavily, holding Kanrud’s hand, almost squishing it.

“Take it easy, Eliath. You’ve dealt with ghosts before. They were no match for your magic.” Kanrud said, stroking her shoulders gently.

“No, it was not just some ordinary ghost…it felt like…I don’t know.” She shook her head, “It felt somehow familiar, and oddly…close to me.”

“Wait! Isn’t this…” Kanrud rushed to a trench, barely being able to be seen under the grassy area.

“You found something?”

“I know this place! It is where I found all of the scrolls, stones with symbols and figurines, and even more. Look, I marked this pit.”

Eliath tracked her way to the pit that Kanrud mentioned. It was dark, so she cast a light spell. To her disappointment, she found nothing intriguing in the pit other than an empty chest.

“I took everything I could find here.” Kanrud said, “I marked it because I thought if I can explore this area and find more of these things.”

Eliath focused her light on the chest, barely hearing Kanrud’s words.

“There is a symbol on the bottom of the chest. Could you help me to lift it out?”

It was not an easy job as the chest was halfway sinking into the sediment, and entangled by some underground plants. Eliath used a feather spell, and Kanrud dug with his axe until he was covered with mud and dust. It was not the best tool for digging, but better than struggling to pull it from above.

After clearing out the reside at the bottom of the chest, Eliath recognized the double shalks symbol carving on it. She picked up a small amulet with the same symbol from the corner of the chest. It was so inconspicuous that she almost took it as a stone and threw it out. Only when her finger rubbed against it, there was some faint energy that caught her attention. And they kept cleaning out until there was absolutely nothing remained in the chest.

“By the three!” She gasped, staring at the pattern painted at the bottom of the chest, “Do you recognize this heraldic symbol, Kanrud?”

Kanrud nodded and grinned.

“You are going to say something, aren’t you? My devoted ordinator.” He hissed, teasing her.

“Come on!” Eliath laughed, pushing him without any strength, and was effortlessly pulled over into the arms of her lover.

“It’s alright; nobody knows what we found here tonight. We can just put this evil thing back into the pit, together with whatever you found here. Well, I mean, if you want to keep them I don’t mind. Just take them with you and never have me see it.”

“Evil? Ha, I knew you have some speech to present.” Kanrud said.

“No, you have a speech.” Eliath giggled, “You know I don’t care to hear about all the Ashlander tales and teachings, but it’s alright, I will listen to you, only because you are the one who says it.”

“How interesting you said that!” Kanrud said, “I happen to read some books recently, something that you house Dunmer would find extremely heretic, even unbearable to hear.”

“About what?”

“About this heraldic symbol, how it used to represent loyalty and wisdom in Resdayn, and how it became the sigil of evil, thoroughly driven into forbidden tales.”

 

2.

Another bout of knocking on her door blew away the giddy visions in her mind. Forcing herself clearing out from the state of channeling, Eliath stood up walked up to the door. Yet she still had a hard time entirely coming back into reality. When she opened the door, she barely recognized the face presenting in front of her.

“Eliath, how pleasant to see you!” The young mer’s eyes glistened with excitement, “it has been so many years, and you are even more beautiful and strong than I could imagine! Come, give a kiss to your old friend.”

Until this moment Eliath recalled the name Elvis Terrlam, with whom she had been acquainted for years, but never close enough to be friends. Nevertheless, she pecked a kiss on his cheek, and he kissed her back twice fervently.

_Fallen Dunmers, blood and tattered flags, dimming light in eyes and tears of dismal. She couldn’t move her eyes from a woman lying in her own blood._

The vision was still haunting her that she couldn’t find a word to say. She merely nodded and led Eliath into her room. It was not until she closed the door when she realized the amulet still sat in her hands. Somehow it looked tarnish now, instead of shimmering with light like earlier when she was toning into its magic. The double shalks symbol appeared sooty, hardly to be seen, but somehow it seemed less peculiar. The more she examined the amulet, the more she believed that she made the right choice bringing it back with her.

However, it was not the time to keep exploring the mysteries of this amulet. Eliath was aware that she couldn’t afford to let Elvis see this thing. Fortunately, he walked all the way up to the chair without looking back, giving her time to slither the amulet into her laundries.

“You are in silence, Eliath. Has the surprise and rapture of seeing me taken your voice?” 

“I am much so glad to see you, Elvis. How have you been these years?” Eliath thought she would show some sign of displacement, but her voice turned out to be calm, even with a smile on her face.

“I am doing wonderful! Can you believe that? I am about to be promoted to the youngest curate of the Temple among my peers, maybe even one of the youngest in the history.”

“Congratulations.”

_Shattered towers, everlasting magic chanting, the roar of warriors and frightened children. Was she one of them? Who was taking her away from the battlefield, to where?_

“You will join me in the promotion ceremony, yes?”

“…I guess…I mean yes, of course.”

“Fabulous! I know you are proud of me as well. You know, I have been planning…”

_What is the purpose of the atrocity? Who are these people, who hollered about revenge yet being the next victim of war? It was the most intense magic power she ever sensed, which nevertheless failed to save the life of the casters._

“…special guest…as my betrothed.”

These were the only words Eliath caught Elvis saying. She was totally lost in the memory of her vision that she missed the speech of his accomplishments and outstanding work he did in the Temple as an acolyte.

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said, you are invited as my special guest in the ceremony, and I will introduce you as my betrothed.”

“I never agreed to marry you.” Eliath blurted out.

“No? That’s alright, I know I sometimes could be a little hasty. After all, I always think faster and work faster, which other could find hard to catch on.” Elvis didn’t seem to be upset at all, “please forgive my temerity, my dear Eliath, I just assumed that your father already told you about this arrangement.”

Eliath always knew that Elvis was pompous and arrogant, but it was not until today she realized he was such an incorrigible smugger. As her mind was cleared from the visions by the astonishing news that Elvis brought in, she started to feel repugnant by the idea of marrying this Dunmer.

“I already learned about the arrangement from my father’s letter. But as I told you, I don’t agree with it.”

Elvis’s face turned sullen, but he still managed a grin: “Well, well, my dear Eliath. I think…I mean after so many years being apart, surely it is hard for you to accept the marriage at once. That’s fine, I won’t push you. You just need spending more time with me, and you will say yes eventually.”

Eliath rolled her eyes. Had her lover not been an Ashlander, she would have already told him that her heart belonged to someone else.

“How about we have dinner together today? I know a great cook in Mournhold, and he can offer you the best dishes you could ever have.” Elvis proposed.

“I don’t understand, Elvis. Why would you agree to the marriage? You…I mean we are not that close, and definitely, you need time to know me better before you even consider to say yes, don’t you?”

Elvis shook his head: “I met you before, a few times, Eliath; I know you are beautiful and staunch, devoted to family and House of Indoril. You will be an ordinator soon. The relatives of both mine and yours spoke highly of you. They all agree that we can make a perfect pair. Isn’t that enough? Who knows better about you than your kin?”

“Myself maybe?” Eliath snapped, “at least they don’t know what I truly want better than I do.”

“Oh? Tell me about it. I am all ears.”

“I will not.” Eliath fumed; although she had no clue what angered her, “I already made myself clear: I won’t say yes to this marriage. Not now, not ever. No matter how long we spend time together—if I ever try, it is not possible for me to marry you.”

Elvis gaped at her, wordless, merely shaking his head.

There were many times she had disagreements with her family, but never once did she raise her voice to anyone. She had always been the compliant and agreeable girl. Most of the time it was her who compromised, but never had she felt so distraught and affronted. She remembered the day when she read his father’s letter. She was disquiet, but not even close to how furious she was at this moment.

However, after seeing who the boy she knew had grown into, she started to feel like she was sold to Elvis for a nice price. No, maybe not to Elvis because he was in no better position than her. Both of them sold well since she realized how much their families need each other to gain power within House Indoril.

“Get lost.” She finally said.

“But…”

“I said, get out of here.”

“Fine.” Elvis darted up to and strode off, “your father will know about what happened today.”

“He knows I am not going to agree. I wrote to him about my decision already.” Eliath sneered.

“Oh, really?” Elvis held the nob, facing towards Eliath, “so he knew that I was about be demeaned and derided by his daughter, yet he still sent me here to ask for your hand? The dishonor is not only on me but my family! I am sure the counselors will hear something about it soon.”

Then he stormed out, slamming the door shut.

 _It will not end well._ Eliath’s mind was swirling with all the possible consequences. Disobedience never resolved itself without ugly endings. Although her father said she had the final say of this marriage, she knew to say no is always the worse option.

And what would Elvis tell the counselors? This incident had nothing to do with the counselors anyway; they were not in charge of managing anyone’s marriage, and definitely had nothing to do with someone saying no to a proposal. However, with Elvis’ parents and elder brother’s influence in the house…

On contemplating her options, she felt more and more at a loss. There was simply no option that could prevent the conflict between their families, other than apologizing to Elvis and agreeing with marrying him, which disgusted her on mere thought about it. But if it is the only way out, she couldn’t afford to rule it out so hastily.

Eliath frowned. Subconsciously her hand reached out to her laundry, and the first thing she touched was the amulet.

She stared at the symbol on the amulet. It was shining again, with crimson and black magic light, it flickers as if hastening her to a final resolution…

…that was not bending her will to Elvis or his family.

Eliath hanged the amulet on her neck, hiding it carefully underneath her clothes, and lay down on her bed. She tried to catch some sleep before night fell. She made up her mind of her next move.

 

 

It was not the day of the week when she usually met with Kanrud, but she couldn’t afford to wait anymore. Fortunately, it didn’t take Eliath too long to find Kanrud at his tribe’s hunting ground.

“Eliath!” Kanrud ignored the nix-hound that he just captured and streaked towards Eliath. He held her tightly to his chest that she started to feel short of breath.

“Azura be praised! I am so glad to see you! I had a bad dream about you.” Kanrud said, “I keep telling myself I am just worrying too much; it was nothing more than a dream, but…you know, I can’t help being worried.”

“What kind of dream?”

“I would better not talk about it. The elderlies told me that if I forget about the bad dream, it won’t become true.”

Usually, she would have laughed at Kanrud and tell him it was superstition, but not today. Tears gathered up in her eyes, and she tried her best to hold them back.

“What’s the matter, love?” Kanrud’s hands firmly on her shoulders, but she felt no less devastated.

“It might already become true, whatever the dream was.” She said, “I need your help, Kanrud.”

After learning about what happened earlier in the evening, Kanrud heaved a deep sigh.

“Even not for this incidence, I know that we have to talk about our future one day.”

 _That sounds not promising._ Eliath thought.

“We can’t be meeting like this throughout our lives. My tribe will move eventually, and your duty here will conclude one day, that you might be assigned to somewhere else.”

“Unless I have a family here.” Eliath’s eyes dimmed as she said that.

“I wish I could be your family. By Azura, how much I wish I could be your husband and take you into my tribe, proudly announcing that I am blessed to have the best woman in Morrowind as my wife.”

She opened her mouth, almost blurting out “then do it,” but eventually held her tongue. Even Kanrud could have made his tribe accept her, she was not sure if she had the resolution to devote herself to such craziness. Abandoning her house and family was never even vaguely a sight in her life, yet it was time for her to bring it up as an option.

Eliath felt the magic of the mysterious amulet vibrating between her breasts. She touched it over layers of clothes. Resolution aroused while the energy faded away. She swallowed, her lip parting again.

“Will you…I am just pondering, not proposing anything…if somehow you bring me with you to your tribe, but you can’t convince them to accept me…”

“I will convince them. First of all, if you are going with me, I won’t be stupid enough to tell them you are an Indoril. I will tell them you are just one vagrant woman in Mournhold. They are likely to accept an outcast of the settled Dunmers than a prestigious house member.” Kanrud said, fingers tighter and tighter on her shoulders, “if you are willing, I will do anything to help you join us.”

“I know you would. But I just…what if you can’t?”

“There is no ‘what if’. I have to succeed.”

“You never know.”

“I…” Kanrud shook his head, “there will be a way.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

She was waiting for an answer.

“I…I don’t know, but we can…” Kanrud stammered, “we still have time tonight. You can come with me and let me talk to the wise woman.”

“And what if it is a dead end?”

“Then we still have time, at least a few days before they take action.” Kanrud avoided her eyes, forcing a smile, “I promise you, we can walk our path together eventually.”

 _No, this is not the answer I am waiting for._ A glimpse of desperation slid through her heart.

“Can you do the same thing for me, if I abandon everything I have for you?” She confronted. _There is no other way._

“You don’t have to make the final decision yet, my love. We need to be cautious…”

“Maybe not today, but sooner or later I have to make a sacrifice.” She interrupted.

“Before we approach that moment, let’s not push it too far now, shall we?” Kanrud lowered his head, and his lips touched Eliath’s.

She almost felt ridiculed. Nothing was going right, yet she couldn’t figure a way to escape. In the deep and silent kiss, she started to feel as if she already lost him.

Not even this bitter kiss could end well. As Eliath heard a rustle in the bushes, Kanrud drew back abruptly as well. Someone was approaching.

“Who goes there?” Kanrud picked up his axe, yelling at the source of the noise.

“The legit betrothed of the woman who you were kissing.”

Eliath’s heart sank. Her fingers moved up to the hilt of her sword.

“Elvis.” She eyed at the shadow looming out behind the trees, “what are you doing here?”

“I deserved the answer better than you do.” Elvis said, clenching his jaw, “you betrayed me.”

“I never agreed with marrying you. We are not even friends. I betrayed nobody.”

“Maybe not me, but the entire House Indoril!” Elvis bawled, pointing his staff to Kanrud, “for a savage like him!”

Before Kanrud or Eliath could do or say anything, a bolt of lightning darted from the top of Elvis’ staff.

She could have held up a ward of absorption, protecting his lover and nobody getting hurt. Instead, the first thing coming to her mind was a reflection spell.

Thus did the lightning strike Alvis, and he tumbled; to make things worse, in perplexity, Kanrud hurled out his axe, which should have cleave into Alvis’ thighs only if he had still been on his feet.

 

3.

It was the first time Eliath entered an Ashlander camp. The brisk wind whistled in between the tents. Numerous guars cuddled around the campfire, with folded tents, crates and other sundries lying around behind them. A few Ashlanders were drinking in the hot mud bath; all eyes turned to Eliath as she walked past them.

“Is your tribe leaving?” Eliath asked.

“No. Some minor tribes are moving in. They haven’t been settled yet. It might be quite crowded and orderless now, and it will get better in a few days.”

Eliath glanced back at the road they traveled from and mumbled something.

“What was that?” Kanrud halted, eyes on Eliath with concern, “no worries, love, you look perfectly an Ashlander. With the other tribes moving in, nobody can tell you are not one of us.”

Eliath looked down on her feet. She was wearing a pair of saddles and a dark cobalt flax dress, with a stripe of fur belt around her waist; she could still feel the newly brushed war paint on her face. Her hair was tousled, with a leather headband around her forehead.

“I think maybe we should have buried Elvis’ corpse, or burnt it.” Eliath said, “it would make it harder for them to find him.”

“No need for that trouble. The ordinators will find out what happened to him no matter what. Besides, our time is limited. It is already midnight, and it is a long way of traveling between the camp to Mournhold.”

“You still think I can go back to Mournhold if I can’t join your tribe?”

“I am not sure. But you can always leave before they turn their suspect to you. And I think in a few days, I am able to find a way for us being together.”

“You mean, together in your tribe. No other way.”

“I just want to try the best option first.”

 _Then what is your last resort?_ Eliath said in her head. It had already been too late to question him like this. It had been too late to contemplate on any other choices, at least for her.

“The Three have mercy.” As soon as she muttered the prayer, she realized it was a mistake. She bit her lower lip, glimpsing at Kanrud.

Kanrud paid no attention to her unseemly prayer. He led her towards a well-embellished tent, sitting next to the main one in which the ashkhan summoned his chiefs.

Then she saw the elderly Ashlander woman sitting next to a small table. She had silver hair and wrinkles crew across her entire face. She looked at least a thousand years old.

“Honored Wise Woman Vanamsi…” Eliath bowed, recalling the Ashlander courtesy and trying her best to act accordingly.

Her words were cut short by Vanamsi’s raucous voice: “A house Dunmer. How curious.”

The wise woman’s eyes remained closed, but she somehow saw the young couple clearly.

“No, Vanamsi, she is…”

“An Indoril.” Vanamsi cracked eyes open, squinting at Kanrud, then shut her eyes again.

“I…well, yes, your insight pierced through the disguise. I shouldn’t have tried to lie to you. My apologies.” Kanrud bowed again.

“And maybe more than just an Indoril. I can’t tell for sure, but I know she is dangerous.”

Eliath was prepared for some kind of denial, but the Vanamsi’s reaction and words were so puzzling that she didn’t know what to say. Her eyes fixed on Kanrud, asking silently for next move.

Kanrud stepped forward: “I know I have violated the rules of the tribe, Vanamsi, I plead for your pardon. But I know our ancestors always admired lovers devoted to each other. We all know the tales of how forbidden but true love conquered all and turned to a marriage blessed by Azura.”

“You are right, if this woman is so determined to be with you and you the same to her, you are given the opportunity.”

“Really?” Eliath exclaimed, “thank you, wise woman!”

“Not too hasty to express your gratitude, for you both yet to earn the privilege.”

“I can do anything to prove my worth.” Given an opportunity without further torment and interrogation exceeded her anticipation, she rejoiced over the concerns of her family and duty at the moment.

“It will be a harsh, even deadly path, I warn you both.”

“Are you talking about the Trial of Future?” Kanrud asked.

“You know the tribe lore well, Kanrud.” Vanamsi opened her eyes again, standing up with a lamp in her hand.

“I am prepared. I have been prepared since I fell in love with Eliath, for I know that whoever wants to marry someone outside the tribe needs to go through the trial.”

“Not necessarily. It actually has little to do with where the person is from, rather the wise women deem it has to be performed.” Vanamsi waddled outside, beckoning them to follow her.

“Usually it is performed by the ones who marry an outsider simply because they face more adversaries that could be foreseen by wise women, so they had to be warned and tested; this way, they will remain indomitable no matter what difficulty they may face. Sometimes a young couple both grow up in the tribe are required to perform it as well, for the same reason as the wise women see through the possible future of their marriage.”

“Fair enough.” Eliath said, holding her chest and head up, “I am prepared.”

“You are an intrepid one, aren’t you?”

“I…I know you don’t like hearing this, but after all, I am from Indoril…”

“You are still holding the pride of your former house. Are you not ready to be reborn as one of Ashlanders?”

“I am holding the pride of no house but mine. I am merely stating the truth. No matter what I choose, the blood of Indoril is in my vein.”

The wise woman chuckled: “Is that so, child?”

 _Is she implying something?_ Eliath narrowed her eyes. She was about to inquire more before they arrived at the ritual site. She felt a shivering warmth emanating from the amulet on her neck.

 

 

The stood on a barren ground covered by sand and pebbles, surrounded by willows and small bushes of chockweeds.

“We need some light here,” Vanamsi said. Eliath nodded and conjured up the flare to light the eight standing torches around the site.

“This is impressive.” Vanamsi tutted, “tell me, Eliath, is magic flowing in the blood of Indoril?” The shadow and light cast by torch fire wavered on Vanamsi’s face.

“Not that I know.”

“Just as what I learned about the Dunmer Houses.” Vanamsi nodded, “step up, children. It is time for the ritual.”

Eliath had to bosom the curiosity induced by this woman, knowing what is more important at the moment. If she succeeded in the ritual, she would have plenty of time pursuing the wise woman’s secrets, and hers as well.

“What do we anticipate in the trial, Vanamsi?” Kanrud’s hand clutched on his axe.

“The future.”

“The fluid future or destined future?” Eliath blurted out.

Vanamsi smiled: “Good question, but there is no absolute answer. It could be either way, depending on your choice in the ritual.”

“I see.” Eliath glanced at Kanrud, so did he to her. The nodded softly to each other, signaling their readiness.

“Come, and drink this potion. No worries,” she blinked to Eliath, lowering her voice, “it is safe for both of you.”

“How do you…” Eliath’s eyes widened.

“Shhhh, it is not time to discuss this yet. Drink and perform the ritual, and then we shall talk.”

Kanrud’s hand found hers when the grasp the cups together. Eliath’s fingers wrapped around his and squeezed.

“No matter what happens in the ritual, bear it in your heart that I always love you,” Kanrud whispered in her ears as she drank her potion.

“I treasure you more than anything, Kanrud. Our love will prevail.”

The taste on her tongue was not that unfamiliar. She could tell some of the illusion-inducing ingredients in the potion. Yet it was much stronger than anything she had used before. The moment burning and freezing liquid flowing down her throat, everything started to fade away, merging into the swirly light and shadows. She clenched on her sword hilt, with the other arm wrapped around Kanrud’s waist. A warm and robust arm held firm on her back, and a hand on her shoulder, relaxing her slightly before her consciousness sank into total darkness.

Eliath was awakened by a shooting pain down from her left leg to her foot. She struggled up to her knees and fumbled for her sword. She heard the battle cry and screeching chanting. Lifting her head in enormous fatigue and pain, she saw the banner of Indoril and the burning Ashlander camp.

“Eliminate the Ashlander beasts!”

“Blood for vengeance!”

Hoot from afar, clear and thrilling. Eliath grabbed the hilt of her sword, only to find that it was already broken into pieces.

It was the battle against the Ashlanders who dwelt close to Mournhold, for one of the tribes had ghoulishly violated some citizens of the holy city. Their aim was simple: to eliminate every single Ashlanders on sight, men or women, children or elderlies, they were all criminals in the eyes of House Indoril.

Eliath lost the count of how many Ashlanders she had killed. She found another sword on a nearby passed soldier, cast a healing spell on her leg and rejoined the battle. She was filled with ire and eagerness of combat. She was bloodthirsty and almost forgot who she was and what she was doing. Only more bloodshed could quench her flaring fervor a little bit.

She haggled her way into the woods. Ashlanders, mostly women and children, running into the forests and mountains. She chased them, and cut down as many as she encountered.

Something felt off, but she couldn’t tell what. Her hands were shivering, yet she knew it was not out of fatigue but the uncontrollable energy inside her. Her heart was pounding as if it was about to explode, and she had to slow down, trying to ground herself from the madness of carnage.

As her hand touched her neck, a refreshing magic flow touched her fingers. She pulled out the chain around her neck, eyes fixing on the small amulet.

“What…am I dreaming?”

_Try to remember._

She couldn’t tell if it was a voice in her head, or she was talking to herself.

_Who are you?_

She gasped. Her sword dropped to the ground.

At the same time, she noticed a face at the edge of woods—the familiar face that always lingered in her dreams, whispering loving and soothing words in her ears; she recognized the pair of hands, now covered by blood, used to caress and fondle on her body, giving her incessant pleasure.

She scurried to the young Ashlander warrior, shouting all the way along.

“Kanrud!”

The mer’s red eyes turned to her, but not with loving gaze as she expected. Only fury and wrath, burnt more frenziedly than the fire.

“You and your house destroyed my tribe, and killed my kin.” He strode on and heaved his axe.

“It is me, my love!” She approached him fearlessly, “open your eyes and heart. Let’s finish the trial together.”

“Die, murderer!”

Eliath blocked his attack, cast a spell of dispelling illusions, but her effort was in vain.

“Don’t you recognize me? Tell me you do, Kanrud, my love!”

“Eliath Indoril, of course, I know your name. I will remember this name until I revenge my mother and brothers.”

“Please! This is an illusion!” Eliath was barely able parried his next violent sway, and stumbled back a few steps before she could regain her balance.

“This is the future!” Kanrud huffed and puffed, his chest rising and falling.

“No! I would rather die than join this madness!” She screamed in desperation. She was trying to awaken him, but it seemed he was never genuinely bewildered by the illusion. He knew—at least he seemed to know what he was doing.

“I should never have brought you here.” Kanrud bawled, “It was all because of you. You go back to Indoril and tell them that I killed Elvis and violated you, then falls the rage of Indoril!”

Eliath tackled the wrist of Kanrud and clasped her arm around him, fettering him against her body with all her strength. 

“Please don’t do this. You know I will never betray you. I already decided to sacrifice everything I had for you!”

Kanrud’s fingers clung to her armor to pull her away from him. But she locked her fingers on his back, refusing to let him go.

“I am pregnant with your child!” Her tears gushed out.

Kanrud startled: “You…what?”

“You are going to be a father! Don’t you want to see your child born safely?”

“I don’t believe you. You never told me about it.” Kanrud’s teeth grinding as he spoke.

“I just found out a few days ago! I was about to tell you but with all those happened so fast…I should have told you! I am sorry!”

“No, don’t you try to decoy me with your poisonous words! They will grow up to be my enemy, for you are an Indoril, and so will be your child.” Kanrud yanked her away from him, picked up his axe.

“I am not!” She ululated, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t know why she said that, but it couldn’t be more accurate at the moment. The amulet grew warmer and warmer against her skin.

_Is the bitterness of betrayal flowing in your blood? Indoril or not, it makes no difference. Betrayed or betrayer, at the end of the day, paints you all the same._

“I have no choice!” The blade of axe cleaved down on her with no hesitation, she didn’t move or parry.

_Neither do I._

She raised her arm and chanted the spell; a magmatic storm burst out as if the Red Mountain erupted on the patch of land in front of her.

She collapsed as the fire swallowed everything, falling into darkness before she could think or feel anything.

 

4.

Eliath dragged her feet, dashing in between the trees. Countless times she was tripped by the tangled roots, yet she managed to crawl up on and forced herself on her feet again.

The shouting and rustling of Ashlanders never gave up tailing her. She set some fire runes to put them off, but they always ended up drawing closer and closer. Occasionally one or two arrows whistled past her ears, nailed into the trees. It sounded like death giggling at her ears.

_I should have listened to her._

“Leave, as soon as you can.” When she exited the ritual, the wise woman said calmly to her, as if it was not Kanrud’s charred body lying on the ground, as if Vanamsi didn’t have blood gushing out of her mouth.

“What…have I done?”

“You did what you have to.” The elderly woman wiped the blood from her pale lips. Her gnarled hands trembled without control, but her voice remained tranquil.

The fire caused by Eliath’s spell had swallowed a few torches, as well as some small trees next to them, crawling its way towards Kanrud’s corpse. Eliath was about to squat down to reach to him, but the fire rushed at her. Both women were forced to hop back before the fire consumed them together.

“I don’t understand!” Eliath screamed.

The wise woman coughed and shook her head: “I have warned you. It is a deadly path. Now leave or regret it.”

Eliath wiped her face, turning to Vanamsi: “Did I hurt you as well, I will escort you to…”

“Stupid child! Can’t you hear they are coming?” Vanamsi scolded, pushed Eliath with all her strength, but It was too late.

Everything happened too fast and dazing after all group of Ashlanders showed up. The Ashlander warriors and hunters took the wounded wise woman, and before Eliath could explain anything, one mer spot the corpse in the fire.

Yes, it was Kanrud’s dead body; yes, she killed him with her spell. She was a house Dunmer from Indoril, wearing her house’s sigil ring. There were no more words needed to be said.

Vanamsi tutted at her, slowly shaking her head.

The leading Ashlander drew his sword. Eliath backed up a few steps, almost tripped over and fell into the fire.

“No…”

“Blood for blood.” He scowled.

“I didn’t mean to…it was the ritual! Tell them what happened, wise woman! Please!”

“I don’t care about the ritual or what happened!” The man hollered, “you killed him, you die. It is the rule.”

 _Maybe it is not a bad idea after all._ A thought slipped through her mind. There was no turning back, and nowhere to go forward either. She thought she could abandon her house for love, yet now her last connection with the world in ruin and ashes.

She didn’t move as his sword pointing at her chest.

The fire behind her roared, sparks splattered. In a split second, she was covered entirely by the heat. All of the Ashlanders startled back.

_Run!_

A voice screeching insider her. She darted out of the fire, and her legs started to carry her into the woods.

It took no time for the Ashlanders realized what just happened. At least six of them began to chase her. He clothes were burning, but she had no time to put the fire out. She became a fireball rolling within the woods, leaving a trail of flame.

Losing all sense of time and location, Eliath ran until her legs felt like scrib jelly. The hunters never planned to give up revenge their kin. Her clothes were burnt and torn, leaving her half naked. Scratching and scolding wounds were throbbing, and every step pained her feet and legs.

 _Let me escape or let me die._ She prayed to the void; no names of gods made sense anymore, she just wanted everything to end.

Yet she kept running, for she noticed something glowing afar, together with some magic that she had encountered before.

It was the spirit that she was chasing the other day, which eventually led her to the chest and the amulet. It was same odd yet familiar magic she sensed that day, emanated by the unknown entity, feeling somehow divine and somehow destructive at the same time.

_Follow me, and you will soon be safe._

This time she was clearly aware that the voice was not in her head, but someone talking with her in a very subtle way.

“There she is!” Someone shouted, “get her from above!”

Before she could conjure up more magic for a defending spell, a shadow plunged down from the trees. Eliath dodged before the blow of mace flailed her into pieces.

It was the edge of the woods. They were running into open grounds, with nowhere she could hide, nor any natural obstruct she could use to defend herself. She saw two Ashlanders flanking from each side, ready to circumvent her.

_To me!_

The spirit glowed like a beacon in the darkness. She didn’t know what could the spirit do to help her or where she could escape to in the middle of such an open area, but she still managed to scramble up and scurried as fast as she could towards the shining shade.

Numerous arrows flew past her. A sharp pain exploded on her left arm. Nevertheless, it only made her run faster and faster, until the support of ground abruptly vanished. Less than a second later, her body hit on soft sand and cold water.

 

 

“You are safe, child.”

Eliath cracked her eyes open. She couldn’t feel her body right after waking up, and a few seconds later, she regretted being able to feel it. Pain occupied every inch of her body. It felt like she broke every single bone in her body. Death could have treated her gentler if she had surrendered herself to it.

But she survived nonetheless.

Eliath fumbled on the shaft of the arrow and pull it out. It was not very deep and didn’t hurt as much she thought.

Then she saw the spirit again, who hunkered next to her, put his hand on her shoulder. She felt no physical touch, but the magic light radiated down from her back to her heart. It soothed her and softened her heart, gradually the tense and pain were leaving her body. She curled up, head in between her knees.

She started to cry. The tears helped to wash up part of the chaotic mess in her mind. She buried her face in her palms, sobbing until she was short of breath.

The spirit remained in silent, no questions or comforting, only the hand emitting magic remained on her shoulder and back. It was entirely different from the energy of an ordinary ghost or spirit of the dead. Instead of being chilling and sometimes moist, his energy reminded her of lava and brass, with a sliver vitality of living souls, even the divinity of gods.

Eventually, she stopped crying and wiped her tear off, smirching the warpaint into a mess.

“You saved my life, sera. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”

The spirit smiled. Translucent as ordinary ghosts, he nevertheless kept the faint color of a living being. He was a Dunmer in late middle age, with a gaunt face and large purplish-red eyes. He wore a red and black robe and held a scepter in his left hand. Though the robe was not in full color, it still reminded her of the lava stone around the Red Mountain and the vincanol flare.

“I did nothing but standing there. It was you who saved yourself, Eliath.”

“You know my name?”

“I know a lot about you, for I have sympathy on you and want to do something benefice you.”

“So you know…what happened to me.”

“Yes.”

“But why do you care about me? Who are you?”

The spirit sighed: “I am a spirit, or a ghost, yet more than that. I am a portion of consciousness remains in this world, a piece of soul that refuses to embrace death, a projection with unfulfilled purpose. My soul is sleeping and waiting for a possible rebirth, but I have so much connection with the world that I can’t entirely fall into the eternal dream. My kin are my anchor to this land. I found a way to return to my home after death, facing the cruelty of fate: Those who bound with me by blood were massacred by my enemies. I had searched and searched in the debris and ashes in despair, until I found my wife lying in her own puddle blood at her last gasp. She pointed to the empty cradle at the corner, then moved her finger to another direction. ‘Our baby daughter…’, she said, and they were the last words I heard from her.”

“Did your enemies kill the baby girl as well?”

“I don’t know. The cradle was empty, with no blood, no corpse, nothing of her remained on sight. Later I learned that my enemies took some of the war orphans and brought them up as their offspring. Maybe my little daughter is one of them.”

“I just met you today, but I share your sorrow, and I pray that your daughter could survive.” Eliath blinked her eyes.

“Deep in my heart, I know she survived, at least this is what I have believed all these years.” The spirit turned his head towards her, “if she indeed survived, she would be in your age by now.”

Eliath wiped out her tears sliding down her cheek again. At the moment, she almost set aside her worries and sadness of herself, and fully immersed in the woeful tale of a father.

“I experienced painful loss as well. Something within you resonates with my bleeding heart. Live on, Eliath, for a father who would cry for his baby daughter.”

“But, my father, he…”

_He won’t accept me as his daughter anymore, after all that had happened._

As if knowing what she wanted to say, the spirit moved forward and signaled her to follow.

“Save your concern for later. Come with me. Use your magical light and watch where you step. We have a long way to go.”

“Where to?”

“You shall see.”

Eliath cast a light spell, which illuminated her surroundings. It was not a mere underground cave but a Dwemer ruin. She looked up and find a trap door above her head, tightly shut. No wonder why the Ashlanders wasn’t able to trace her down here.

“You opened that for me and resealed it?”

“Yes, a simple trick of Dwemers.”

“I heard about House Dwemer, the enemies of The Great Houses and the Temple. They rebelled against the divine power of the Three.”

“And they were destroyed to the last living soul by the almighty Tribunal, together with another deviant evil house.” The spirit sneered, walking into the dark tunnel. Eliath followed him, trying her best to ignore the pain shooting down her both legs.

“It was the war against the rebellious houses you experienced.”

The spirit nodded: “In which I lost everything.”

Eliath fell into silence for a while and heaved a long sigh: “I share the same woe as you have, sera. I lost the person I valued the most in the world.” She smirked, “was that the retribution of my betrayal to my house, my family, and my beloved father?”

The shoulders of the spirit shrugged slightly as he paused his steps. Eliath heard soft laughter.

“Did you betray your family, or you were betrayed, traded as a pretty piece of treasure, for the power of your family and the Dunmer who brought you up?”

“Don’t say that, sera. It hurts me to hear harsh words like these.” Eliath held her hands on her heart, “he was not the mer who sired me, but he treated me as her own daughter, and I love him no less than any daughter would love her father.”

Unconcernedly, the spirit’s hands wandered on the stone walls and brass pillars, as he roamed along.

“Sorry for my brusque words. Believe me, I had no intention to offend you or your family. I was merely thinking aloud, for there is the very same question I used to ask to myself.”

“The same question? You mean, are you betrayed, or a betrayer?”

“Indeed.” The spirit stopped at a brass door, looking up at the ceiling, “I am positive it is the right way, just give me some time to figure out how to open it.”

 

 

The other side of the door was shrouded in darkness as well. It smelled even more metallic, with some oily and greasy odor in the air. Eliath noticed something odd.

“Dwemer ruins are mostly guarded by machines. Why weren’t we attacked earlier in the tunnel?

“There were none deployed in there because it was a secret pass, used by Dwemers as an emergency escape or, in case of war, secret transportation route. Although it was not protected by my machines, there are some traps and tricks. To safely navigating through there, you have to know everything about it.”

Eliath nodded: “So you were dealing with the tricks as we walked through.”

“You observed well. I did. In fact, only a few people knew about it. They were supposed to be all Dwemers noble and royals, but I had my way to gain access to secret knowledge.” The spirit chuckled, “I wonder if I hadn’t, would the result be any different.”

“Sera?”

“Nothing. Do me a favor, child, find something for me.”

As Eliath put the two pieces of colossal crystalized magic energy, the sudden brightness almost blinded her. After her eyes readjusted to the light, the splendors of old times presented itself.

“This is…” Eliath gawked at the vast basilica, all words had eluded her in awe and admiration.

“It was even better when the Dwemers were alive. Mind you, Dwemer was not a great house, but their own race of mer, with their own rulers.”

Still emerging in what she had seen, Eliath paid little attention to what the spirit just said.

“I have been into Dwemer ruins before, but…I swear I have never seen something like this.”

“It is one of the annexes of Bamz-Amschend. I used to enjoy being here with my friends…when we were still friends.” The spirit murmured.

“Bamz-Amschend? Isn’t that underneath Mournhold? I thought we still have a long way to go.” Eliath exclaimed. She had read something about the hidden ruin underneath the holy city. Although the book was on the list of forbidden text, Eliath could never resist the temptation of secret knowledge.

“We do. Dwemer underground constructions were mostly connected with each other in a certain area, and this is only the outskirt of the main construction of Bamz.” The spirit explained as they proceeded, “Bamz is incredibly enormous. The main city itself is larger than Mournhold, and this place is merely an appurtenance.”

“The Dwemer was capable of building something larger than the holy city of Morrowind?” Eliath frowned. She was never one the prigs who were enthusiastic in the prosecution of heresy, but what she saw and heard today left a crack on the pillars of her knowledge of the world.

“More massive, more refulgent, and even more ancient than Mournhold. After all, Dwemers had dwelled longer in this land than us.”

Eliath almost wished she hadn’t had to believe what he was talking about. But what she had seen and touched was not lies. Moreover, her intuition told her that the mysterious spirit was telling the truth, even he avoiding giving her his name.

Their steps echoed in the empty basilica. Eliath picked up some exquisite Dwemer artifact, and dropped them down after a quick browse.

“How marvelous artifacts had they created! But why, I wonder, did the talented Dwemers betray us?”

The spirit burst into a bout of laughter: “Why do you think? Didn’t the Tribunal teach their youths about their glorious history of conquest?”

The sarcastic tone of the ever calm and elegant spirit made Eliath smiled: “I was taught they were snooty and arrogant, and always had been coveting the power of Tribunal. But I guess you have a totally different answer to that question.”

“To your disappointment, I don’t. My answer will be quite similar to what you just said.”

“Then why did you laugh?”

“I laughed because of the question.”

“Did I ask the wrong question?” Eliath remembered the question the spirit mentioned earlier, “should I ask, ‘why did Dunmer betray Dwemer’ instead?”

“It is invalid either way.” The spirit held his steps in the middle of the basilica, looking down to the vast bronze chandelier lying on a deformed long table. Eliath lifted her chin up and stared at the ceiling, imagining what it had looked like at where it belonged to.

“Why do you want to tell apart the betrayer and the betrayed? What difference it makes?”

“Isn’t that question you ruminate on as well?”

The spirit smiled: “I said I used to ask the question, because I don’t anymore, for either answer pains me insufferably.”

A vague memory of similar words loomed in Eliath’s mind. Everything happened in the illusion of the ritual was fogged up, expect some words she heard from nowhere. Eliath’s eyes fixed on the spirit, agape, quietly waiting for him to continue.

“I served my…” He paused, “my liege lord, with all my heart. I plead my fealty to him, and I was willing to give my life to the oath, to him. He meant everything to me.”

The voice of the spirit remained the same, but she somehow could see the shivering of his soul, and her heart was sour for the sorrow of him.

 “After decades of peace, there befell the war; destruction and bloodshed seized the land, friends and comrades turning against each other, all fell into madness and bitter endings. In the very end, it was me falling underneath the blade of my liege. My last memory was crystal clear: I gathered the power of frost storm, as strong as the blizzards of nine winters; at my command, I was able to destroy anything, anyone. Yet I just planted myself in front of him as if frozen by my own frost. His eyes were burning with the flame of wrath and hatred. He looked at me as if I deserved to die, or rather I had already died.”

“Thus, you end up choosing death.”

“It didn’t matter what I chose. There was no way I could bring myself to end his life. I had no choice.”

“And what infuriated him so much? Did you…um…”

“Did I betray him?” The spirit picked up the question Eliath was reluctant to finish, “to be honest, I don’t know, and I am not sure I want to know. I have to admit, I did…something that could be seen as a betrayal; I was drawn dangerously close some power that nobody supposed to touch. I didn’t mean to use the power or break his trust, but for familiarizing myself with it. I knew my enemies had been coveting the power for a long time, and I had to be prepared to protect my liege and myself, in case the seemingly loyal pups bare their fangs of savage beasts. I used to keep telling myself that maybe I deserve this fate because I tried my luck with the forbidden power after all. But when I learned what became of my lord, I think it didn’t matter what I did or did not, for my enemies had found a way to delude him into false trust, which led to his demise.”

The spirit’s voice was trembling, almost sobbing, though there were no tears. He sank to his knees, in the middle of the grand basilica, mourning for his past.

The story sounds familiar, yet totally strange to her. Kanrud told her the story of a great king, a version digressed from the teaching of the Temple. It seemed somehow related to the tale of this projection of a lost soul.

She tried to comfort him. Only when her hands fell through his translucent body did her realize they didn’t belong to the same world. Yet he was so close to her; though separated by the veil of life and death, they were connected by something unknown.

“If you were given another chance, would you have killed him?”

“Not at that moment, no.” The spirit shook his head, “I might be able to…no, not even now; perhaps in the future, one day when I grow stronger, not only of power but of my determination.”

“I don’t understand your words. You have already died.”

The spirit slowly raised to his feet. His eyes shone as he grinned sadly, as if his thought was lost in a timeless flow: “That’s alright, child, one day you will understand the ultimate truth of the universe. Everyone will.”

 

5.

They walked through the basilica and entered another tunnel after crossing a long bridge. The next hall was not as glorious and beautiful. There were dim lights from the remaining lamps on the walls. They met some Dwemer machines, but it took little effort for Eliath to clear them out.

“These troublemakers are hardly as half dangerous as they were when the Dwemers were maintaining them.” The spirit commented as Eliath cut down a Dwemer spider.

“I am happy with how they are right now.”

“And is this part of the ruin more like what you entered before?”

“Quite similar.”

“Wait until you see the main hall of Bamz, if it is still intact. It is not that far away.”

That means Mournhold is right ahead too. Eliath breathed heavier, slowing down her steps.

“I think I have to catch my breath, sera. I know you might not be able to sustain this way too long, but I am so exhausted. Just give me a few minutes.” Eliath took a piece of stone as her seat.

“Are you exhausted because of the fatigue and wounds, or the thoughts that you are going home?” The spirit sat down next to her, smiled.

Once bringing the attention to her future, all the panic and pain rushed back to Eliath’s chest, making her heart throbbing and pounding.

“I am not going home. I will leave Mournhold quietly and find a way to fare a living.”

“Why would you rather go down the path covered with bramble?” The spirit shook his head.

“How is going back home an easier way? I have killed a Dunmer from my own house, which is a vicious offense against the house, let alone I am pregnant with the child of an Ashlander! Nobody in my house would condone such a crime, not even my father.”

The spirit laughed, drawing his face close to Eliath: “Is that so?”

Eliath gazed into his eyes. He had the same eye color as she did, suddenly she realized. Something was whirling inside her, but no proper words or thoughts could bring the whorls into something concrete. 

Eventually, she got back on her feet in silence, and began to trudge through the shambles lying in the corridor. There was no sound other than the clang of pebbles and metal pieces.

“I think I will just accept whatever awaits me. My fate is in the hands of the house.” Eliath said, annoyed.

“Is that what you come up with after the extended musing?”

“I am not as wise as you are, sera. I have no riposte to your riddle.”

“You will gain wisdom over time, by learning and experiencing. Let me tell you one essential wisdom of the universe: Everything we know about the reality is a tale.”

Eliath paused, looked at him in puzzlement.

“Haven’t you learned anything from the history of Dwemer that I told you? Or you don’t believe what I said?”

“If anything is just a tale, how do I know yours is not?”

The spirit laughed: “You are learning fast, child. Of course, it is a tale. But how does that matter?”

“I guess…it really doesn’t.” Something in her heart felt lighter all in a sudden. She grinned, “everyone can tell one as long as they keep it intact from the collusion of others’ tales.”

“You are gaining wisdom, see? When we dive into reality, we will find that there is no deception or honesty, only a tales, and the power behind it. You may not see it this way yet, but there are just as many tales around you, and of you.”

The words stirred her mind unsettled again. Unintentionally her hands cupped on the amulet hanging in front of her chest.

The spirit waved his scepter: “You find a good tale?”

“I guess so.” Eliath nodded, “first of all, it wasn’t me who killed Elvis.”

“An adequate starter. Go on.”

“It was an Ashlander who killed him.” Eliath continued as they kept proceeding in ruins, “and he even tried to kill me.”

“You are talented, Eliath. I am impressed.” The spirit nodded slowly, “a good tale is not totally made up, but a re-organized narrative regarding what actually happened, at least what you perceived as actually happened. Now it is the time to give the tale more spice.”

"I was raped, so I carry the offspring of a criminal."

The spirit shook his head: "The Indorils won't let you keep the baby if you say so."

Eliath sighed: "Whenever I think about the baby's father, my heart throbs. Maybe I shouldn't keep them."

"It is not about the father. They are your child, your blood and flesh. Do you feel the growing new life? Do you have a connection with them? If not, you do what you want to. Otherwise, preserve them for a better future."

Eliath hesitated for a moment. She touched her belly, rubbing her palm on it. They walked onto a narrow and swinging bridge. Even with the magic light, she couldn’t see through the darkness of the abyss underneath it.

"I do feel the new life. I want my baby alive." She stared at the abyss and replied, as if she found her answer within.

"Then tell another story, a spicier one that stings on the softest spot on their hearts, so that they pour all the sympathy and tenderness onto you and your child."

Eliath nodded: "Then I will tell them, the baby..." Her eyes lightened, “I will say the baby is sired by Elvis!” She inhaled deeply and let her words flow, “I fell in love with him the first night he visited me. I took him to my bed for the overwhelming affection, and later we had a walk out in the woods, holding our hands. There we were ambushed by some ferocious Ashlanders. We fought fearlessly until they murdered Elvis and took me captive. I escaped using my wits and strength, and managed to revenge my beloved one.” She felt proud of her tale and started to refine it, “oh, to make it better, I won’t tell them that I am pregnant right away. I will wait a bit longer and ‘find it out’ one day, and fall into sorrow and joy for bearing a posthumous child of Elvis, who sacrificed himself to protect me and the honor of Indoril. Then the will of both families forming a bond is fulfilled.”

"Remarkable! You are doing well beyond my anticipation." The spirit said as he set his foot on the concrete ground, “now, are you ready for the main hall of Bamz-Amschend?”

“Yes, sera, I am.”

 

Nothing that she had seen before was like the scene in front of her. Eliath’s eyes were wide open and lips apart out of amazement and shock. With every single light lit, all brass artifacts shone like gold. The hall was well preserved, and everything remained as if their owner were merely left for a vocation.

“This is astonishing!” Eliath exclaimed, “I never thought I would be able to see it with my own eyes!”

“Go ahead to sate the thirst for beauty, for all you are seeing could be the last splendor of this place. It will decay and crumble, and become a ruin just as what you have seen.”

Eliath walked around the hall and examined everything she could lay her hands on. Eventually, her attention was attracted by some banners hanging on a wall. The most significant four banners with Dwemer symbols outstood in the middle, forming a square, with three smaller ones of Dunmer Houses on each side.

She quickly noticed the one next to the Dwemer banner on her left-hand side. It was the heraldic symbol of House Dagoth, the one etched on the mysterious amulet, as well as the chest she found in the woods.

Nothing told a better tale than these banners. Eliath lowered her head, paying veneration to the lost house.

“House Dagoth, the mysterious Sixth House that nobody talks about. I was told they were loyal servants to the realm by Kanrud, which undoubtful contradicts the statement of the Temple.”

The spirit slid over and stood next to her, gazing at the banners: “I am surprised the Dwemers didn’t take them off. Maybe they left in a hurry, or they wanted to keep something as a remembrance.”

“You led me to the amulet, sera.” All of a sadden Eliath changed the topic, eyes still on the double shalks banner.

“I did.” The spirit didn’t move his sight either.

“I am certain you know well about the house lost in history.”

“I do.”

“And I noticed that there hangs no banner of the Tribunal.”

“That’s obvious.”

“At last, unfortunately, you were among the defeated.”

The spirit turned back: “I was.”

Eliath turned to the spirit, looking into his eyes: “What a tale it hides here! I wish the whole Tamriel could hear it one day.”

The spirit smiled bitterly: “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“And what you have told me about yourself, your liege lore and your enemies…”

“Merely more tales, nothing else.”

 _Maybe more than tales._ Eliath said silently to herself. Nothing could be sincerer and more truthful than what she saw from the spirit.

_But how does that matter anymore?_

“It is time to move on. I wish I had more time here with you. Alas, I don’t belong to this place, or even this world anymore.” The spirit headed to the double door of the hall, “trust me, Eliath, walking all the way through Bamz with you is the most satisfying time I had since I died.”

“I…I wish I had more time with you too.” Eliath said, “although I don’t know who you are and what your name is, good sera, I already feel so close to you as if we were kin.”

Eliath saw that the head of the spirit lowered, and he turned to her: “I feel the same way, my dear girl.”

They walked across another bridge, which was longer than the last one.

“Mournhold is just up there. See that brass ladder? Climb on, and you will find yourself in a stone concave. It should be located somewhere right outside the walls of Mournhold.” The spirit pointed the way to her, “you will be safe in the city.”

“Are you going up with me, sera?”

 “The city of glory is never the same as I remembered. I swore that I won’t see it again, not until I fulfill my dream.”

“Then I wish you best luck.” Eliath bowed trice to the spirit, “and thank you for everything you have done for me.”

“It is my pleasure.”

“Will our paths cross again?”

“I cannot tell, but eventually, I believe we will meet. Not in death, but in ultimate glory and nobility.”

Eliath wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but she smiled on: “I will bear your words in mind, and look forward to that day.”

She grabbed the ladder, shook it to make sure it was stable. She set her foot up, then turned back to the spirit again. His shade started to fade away, and his smile looked blurry.

She didn’t want to say farewell, as if without the word, he would have remained with her. And it seemed he shared the same idea.

“What a shame we have so little time together. There is so much wisdom I wish to learn from you, and so many mysteries wish you could reveal to me.” Eliath sighed as she started to climb.

“You will learn more wisdom than I have when you grow older, and the secrets will reveal themselves when the time comes.” The spirit replied, but Eliath didn’t look down or stopped climbing. She kept going up with the voice of the spirit dimer and fainter.

“As for now, live on, Eliath, no matter how impossible it appears, for life is the promise of everything.”

Tears rolled down from Eliath’s cheeks. She pushed herself up to the edge of the hole and looked down back into it. Sheer darkness blocked her sight; deadly silence swallowed her inquiry.

Then she strode over the hole and out the concave hidden under leaves and cirrus. In the east horizon, layers of leady gray melted into soft saffron. Eliath straightened her back and neck, holding her head high, despite her clothes could barely cover her body; she pranced onto the path towards Mournhold gate, bathing herself in the brilliant sunrise of the breaking dawn.


End file.
